


Tony Stark's Guide to Being a Functional Adult

by dracusfyre



Series: Tony Stark Bingo Challenge [27]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Ableist Language, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Marriage, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Luckily they both give great hugs, M/M, Mechanic Bucky Barnes, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Tony Stark, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, oh my god they're roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-07 05:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18230297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracusfyre/pseuds/dracusfyre
Summary: For theImagineTonyandBuckyprompt:Imagine Tony getting disowned by Howard before starting his second PhD and start working at Bucky's mechanic shop part time. Getting together shenanigans ensue.Also for my Tony Stark Bingo R3: Deep Throating, so, uh, spoiler alert.





	1. Step 1: Move Out and Get Your Own Place

“Anthony Edward Stark, what in the  _hell_  do you need  _another_  PhD for?”

“I don’t think the program at MIT was complete enough, I didn’t get nearly enough experience in mechanical engineering," Tony said as he followed his father into his office, catching the door as it almost closed on him. "There’s a program at NYU-“

“No, absolutely not.  I need you to start working in R&D  _yesterday_  - have you seen Hammer’s most recent line of missiles?”  Howard slammed his briefcase on the desk and opened it with rushed, jerky motions, tossing out a pile of photos that slid across the desk towards Tony. “Stark Industries doesn’t have anything like this, and I’m too busy keeping the business running to do it myself.”

Tony spared a brief glance at the photos but they didn’t look like anything special. “Look, Dad, it should only take me a year, eighteen months max-”

“I said  _no._ If you don’t want to be a part of the family business, then fine.” Howard straightened and pointed towards the door.  “Get the hell out of my house.”

Tony took a deep breath and tried not to roll his eyes at his father’s dramatics.  “Well, it’s not like I could live here anyway, I’ll live near campus-”

“No!” Howard shouted, face growing red. “I’m not going to let my son be a lazy bum freeloading off my hard work to screw around with a bunch of undergrads and claim he’s working.”

Tony reared back like he’d been slapped. “I’m – I’m not-“ He’d put in twelve to fifteen hour days six days a week to get his degree a year early; going out on Saturday nights and sleeping it off on Sundays had only seemed fair.  “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I worked my  _ass_ off-”

“Cut the shit, Tony.  Playtime's over, it’s time to start pulling your weight around here.  Report to Stark Industries on Monday or I’m cutting you off.”

“Cutting me off?” Tony repeated numbly. “What-”

“You heard me. I’m done. Start working, or stop spending my goddamn money like it’s water.”

Tony blinked for a long moment as Howard’s meaning sunk in.  “Ok. Well. Then fuck this,” Tony said, turning on his heel. “I don’t need you or your goddamn money.”

Infuriatingly, Howard barked out a laugh.  “Right.  You won’t last a week out there without me. I’m the one who pays your bills every month, remember?  The one who puts money in your account and pays off your credit card?”

“Fine, then  _don’t,_ _”_ Tony snapped.  “I’ll pay my own fucking bills and you can design your own goddamn missiles.” Tony slammed the office door on his way out, half expecting Howard to come storming after him. But he didn’t, the office door stayed closed and the whole way to his car he never heard the voice calling after him that he expected.

“Because he doesn’t care,” Tony muttered to himself as he got in his car. “No, it’s because he doesn’t believe me,” he said, rubbing his temples and relaxing his jaw, that just realized had been clenched so hard it was giving him a headace.  “He thinks I’m going to run back to him in a few days, begging for help.”  As he threw the car in gear and roared down the driveway he swore the only way he would come back to Howard for  _anything_  would be if the old man begged him to.

 

Of course, the first person he called was Rhodey, because, duh,  _Rhodey._ It was only after the phone started ringing that he remembered that he was currently stationed in Alabama working for DARPA. “Well, dammit,” he said out loud right as Rhodey picked up.

“Tony? What’s wrong?”  With a sigh, Tony told him the story.  “Oh, shit, Tony.  That fucking sucks, I’m sorry,” Rhodey said.  “How can I help?”

“I just…”  _Have no fucking clue what I’m doing,_  Tony thought with a sigh. “Needed someone to talk to,” he answered instead.  He was a grown ass man, he didn’t need help figuring out how to survive without his dad’s money.  That’s what the internet was for. “How are you liking Alabama?”

“Well…the job is cool,” Rhodey said.  “Can’t talk about it much though.”

“Yeah, I understand.”  They chatted for a little while longer until Rhodey needed to get back to work.  As Tony hung up he realized that he was driving and had no idea where he was going, so he pulled over to the nearest gas station and fished out a scrap piece of paper and a pen from the mess in the back seat.

“Ok, so, first. Place to live.” Tony wrote that down and then wrote a question mark beside it, then he grabbed his phone and googled ‘apartments near Tandon School.’  He scrolled through the hundreds of listings before admitting to himself that he had no idea what he was doing.  What was considered a good location? Was four thousand a lot for an apartment in the city? He rubbed his eyes and checked the balance in his bank account, since that would have to last him until he got a job.  “Right. Job,” he said as he wrote that down on the list. He tapped his pen against the steering wheel as he thought. “Or figure out how to pay for school.”  Since that was the whole point.  But school didn’t start for a while so he would need something in the meantime.  He still wrote that down though.  

He looked down at his list.  House. Job. School. Three words, like it was going to be that easy. He might as well write down “fall in love” and “live happily ever after” on this stupid list.

“I’m gonna need some coffee for this,” he sighed, tossing the list into the passenger seat, and got back on the road to the nearest coffee shop.

 

Four hours and as many cups of coffee later, Tony had a short list of rooms for rent that would fit his budget.  No progress on the job front, but first things first, right?  He needed a place to sleep before he needed a job.

He didn’t even get past the front door at the first place.  The woman who answered the door took one look at him and said, “I’m sorry, I’m not renting out to guys.”

“What? Why? I didn’t see that on the ad for the room-”

“Well, no, I can’t just  _say_  that,” the woman said, rolling her eyes. “It’s like against the law or something.  But I’ve lived with dudes before and I’m not doing it again.”

“Um…ok then.” Tony didn’t know what to say to that so he just turned on his heel and left. The second place turned out to be a place where three guys were sharing a two bedroom apartment, and when Tony took a look at the kitchen and bathroom he got an idea why the first lady didn’t want to have a guy as a roommate. 

When Tony pulled up to the third place, he was confused to see a garage instead of an apartment building.  “Hello?” He called out as he got out of his car.  The building was an old two story brick building that said  _JB Automotives_  across the top; there were two bay doors but only one of them had a car in it. “I’m here for the room?”

“One moment,” someone called out from inside the building.  Tony shoved his hands in his back pockets and waited, rocking back on his heels.  _Mechanic,_  Tony mused. He’d been working on his dad’s old cars since he was big enough to pick up a wrench. How much did mechanics make?  Would it be rude to ask? 

His thoughts scattered and his eyebrows climbed skyward as the sexiest man he’d ever seen came out of the garage to meet him on the sidewalk.  Cool grey eyes studied him and Tony’s eyes dropped to the full lips as the man approached. A stained white T-shirt stretched over broad shoulders and a muscled chest and Tony’s eyes were somewhere around the man’s belly button, about to head into creeper territory before he jerked his gaze back up, face hot. The man wiped his hand on a rag tucked into his pants pockets before he held it out and that’s when Tony’s brain registered that one of the sleeves of the shirt was empty.  Tony stared at the long fingers and broad calloused palm for probably a second too long before he shook it.  His eyes flew up to meet the grey eyes again and his brain suddenly turned back on, replaying the last five seconds of conversation.

“Hey, uh, Bucky was it? I’m Tony, Tony Edwards,” he lied, knowing from experience that saying ‘Stark’ was a fast track to ending up in the tabloids.  He realized that he was still holding Bucky’s hand so he let go quickly, feeling the tips of his ears burn.

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky said easily, somehow apparently unaware that Tony had been ogling him, or at least willing to pretend as much. “You said you’re here about the room?”

“Yeah, I sent you a text earlier?”

“Yep.  Follow me.” Bucky tilted his head back towards the garage and led him through the empty garage bay.  Tony allowed himself five seconds of checking out Bucky’s ass in his loose-fitting jeans before he dragged his eyes back up to the back of Bucky’s head, where it looked like a buzz cut was just starting to grow out.  It looked somehow soft and bristly at once; Tony’s hands itched to touch it.

“So is this your place?” Tony asked, looking down at the floor instead and trying to sound casual as he followed Bucky up a set of stairs on the side of the garage.

“Yeah, I grew up here and bought it when my parents retired. Between the repairs and my disability checks, I manage to pay the bills, but a roommate would certainly help.”  He opened the door at the top of the stairs and stepped out of the way for Tony to come inside.  Tony kicked his shoes off next to a messy pile already next to the door and looked around the apartment; the stairs opened into the living room, which was connected to the kitchen with just a short bar separating the two. A small table pressed against the wall made up the “dining room”, and then there was a short hallway that presumably led to the bedrooms.  Bucky led Tony past one door that was ajar, closing the door on the messy bedroom and muttering about needing to clean, then opened the door at the end of the hallway.

“This is nice,” Tony said gamely.  The room was small, small enough that the double bed sitting in the corner dominated the space, with a window and a long low dresser along the far wall. There was a sliding wooden door that opened into a shallow closet and a faded blue rug on the floor that matched the floral pattern curtains on the window.  “Perfect.” Well, what was perfect was the body on the man standing behind him and the fact that the Tandon School of Engineering was a reasonable commute away, but the room would do.

It took another few minutes to get the business part of the rental agreement out of the way and then Bucky went back to work while Tony waded through the mess in his car.  He was relieved to find that his backpack with his laptop and charger were under a pile of textbooks and that the trunk was full of dirty clothes that he had completely forgotten about, so that was nice.  Bucky showed him where the washing machine was and how to use it, and Tony loaded it up gratefully.  When he was finished, the sum total of his belongings made a pitifully small pile on his bed.  He lay down next to the pile and sighed, rubbing his eyes and wondering if it would be terribly irresponsible to just go to sleep right now.  Suddenly he felt exhausted all the way down to his soul.

He was trying to get up the energy to put his stuff away when the sudden buzz of his phone vibrating against the nightstand almost gave him a heart attack.  He grimaced when he saw the caller ID and hesitated for a moment before forcing himself to answer.

“Hey, Mom,” he said with a sigh, closing the door to his new room, even though the walls were probably thin enough that it didn’t help much.

“Tony,” she said with her characteristic mix of exasperation and concern, “what is this nonsense that happened between you and your father?”

“Did you ask him?”

“He said that he told you he didn’t want you to go back to school so you stormed out.”

“What? No.  He  _kicked_  me out,” Tony said, making a conscious effort not to raise his voice. “He said if I didn’t come work for the company, I wasn’t welcome in his house anymore and that he was cutting me off.”

“Oh, Tony, you know he didn’t mean that,” his mom said quellingly.  “He was probably just angry and letting off steam.  Just watch, if you come back tonight he’ll be over it.”

Yeah, Tony could just imagine that.  All of them sitting around the dinner table, the silence tense between Tony and his father even as his mother tried to keep up a light patter of conversation. The little jibes Howard would make whenever he could work them into the conversation and Tony gritting his teeth as he tried to ignore them.  That’s what had happened the first time Tony had mentioned getting a PhD, and that had been almost every family dinner since Tony had come out as bisexual. Howard had  _said_  he was ok with it – eventually – but man that was the first thing that usually got thrown in Tony’s face whenever they argued, ‘that hippie-dippie liberal free love bullshit.’  “I’m not coming back, Mom.”

“I’m sure if you just both apologize-”

“Mom, no.  Not this time.  I’m going to prove to Dad I don’t need his goddamn money so he can’t hold that over my head for the rest of my life,” he snapped, and promptly felt bad when his mother was silent for a long time.

"Okay,” she said finally, to Tony’s surprise.  “Can you tell me where you are? So I don’t worry? I can also have Jarvis come over with some of your things.”

“I’ll text Jarvis the address,” he said, a little guilty for the sidestep but really not wanting to hear a lecture from his mom about where he was living or risking that Howard would find out.  If his mom noticed, she didn’t comment.

“I love you, sweetie,” she said. “Please be careful, ok?”

“I will, Mom.  I love you too.”  As he hung up he felt his eyes stinging, so he sat on his bed and pressed his palms to his eyes until the feeling went away.  “You can do this,” he muttered to himself.   “Take it in steps.  Everything’s going to be okay.”   He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and started putting his clothes in the dresser drawers. 


	2. Step 2: Learn Basic Adulting

Dinner that evening was a slightly awkward affair; Bucky was clearly self-conscious about having a virtual stranger in his home and Tony was too tired to turn on the charm like he normally would.  They had ordered cheap Chinese takeout that Bucky must be enjoying, judging from the way he was steadily emptying his carton of General Tso’s, but Tony mostly picked at his and wondered if it was possible to develop atherosclerosis from a single meal.

“So are you going to get the rest of your stuff tomorrow?” Bucky asked as he got up to pour himself another glass of water.

Tony toyed with his chopsticks and stared down at the glutinous mass on his plate. “That  _is_  all my stuff. My dad kicked me out of the house and that was everything I had on me when I left.”

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry.” Bucky’s face creased with sympathy. “You know, if you need to pick up some stuff I can take you to the store.” 

Tony sighed and rubbed his eyes.  “I can go myself, if you just tell me where it is.”

“It’s not a big deal, I need to pick up some stuff too. We can go tomorrow.”  Bucky pushed back from the table and started cleaning up, tossing his empty food carton in the trash and putting his silverware and glass in the sink.  “I figure we’ll trade off doing dishes?” Bucky said over his shoulder as he grabbed a towel from his room and headed to the bathroom.

“Sounds fair,” Tony called back.  He put his almost untouched Chinese food away and eyed the pile of dishes in the sink like it was a nest of snakes.  But there was a sponge behind the faucet and one of the bottles below the sink identified itself as dishwashing liquid, so he was almost done when Bucky got out of the shower.

“Oh, you washed them all by hand,” Bucky said in surprise, toweling his hair dry, his t-shirt and sweatpants clinging to his damp skin in a way that almost had Tony dropping the slippery glass in his hand. “You could have put them in the dishwasher.”

“Oh,” Tony said, looking back down at the soapy sink, face getting hot.  “I, um, didn’t see it there.  I’m almost done anyway.”

As Bucky shrugged and turned away, Tony glared at the dishwasher and quickly finished scrubbing the plates.

***

After an abysmal night’s sleep getting used to the night sounds in an alien part of the city, Tony made himself a bowl of cereal and then spent a solid fifteen minutes staring at the blinking cursor on his screen, struggling with indecision.  He’d googled the proper format for a resume but got stumped at the very first step – having his name on the top of the document.  The word “Stark” marched black and ominous across the top and revealed the gaping hole in Tony’s plan: who in their right mind was going to hire  _him?_  Who would believe that a Stark was genuinely interested in working a wage job, and then could be trusted to keep quiet about it when any tabloid would pay good money for the hot tip that  _Tony Stark_ was punching a time clock? He couldn’t lie, like he had to Bucky, because he didn’t have a fake ID nor the vaguest idea of how to get one.  “Shit,” he said, raking his hands through his hair as he thought furiously.  He didn’t even know how to go about finding a job under the table; do you just go around to businesses and ask?

Eventually he closed the resume document – “No, don’t bother saving it,” he muttered resentfully, closing the dialogue box on his screen – and sent an email to his old professors, asking if they knew of any paid positions that were accepting students, carefully phrasing it so it looked like he just needed work experience instead of money. One guy got back to him immediately, but his response was not encouraging.  “Paid positions are usually limited to students with financial need,” Tony read. “Well, fuck.”  He thought about writing back and explaining that he was one of those students, but again, the prospect of reading about his family drama on the  _New York Daily News_  stopped him.  With another curse of frustration he closed his laptop and set it on the floor, then rolled over to bury his face in his pillow.  How in the fuck do people  _do_  this?

There was a knock on the door and then Bucky said “Tony? Are you ready to go to the store?”

Tony sighed and sat up.  “Sure, hold on a second.”

The drive was short but Tony spent most of it frowning to himself as he watched Bucky navigate the car’s controls one-handed. Doing almost anything, like hitting the turn signal or putting down a window, involved holding the steering wheel still with a knee and awkwardly reaching over; Tony imagined he didn’t listen to the radio very often because changing the channel would be a hell of a hassle.  But it wouldn’t be that difficult to move the important things to the right side of the steering column where Bucky could reach them, Tony mused.  If he could wire the controls for the radio and windows straight into the steering wheel that would be best, but you would need to-

“Alright, we’re here,” Bucky announced, putting the car in park and interrupting Tony’s thoughts.

“Dollar Tree?” Tony read the store’s sign as he climbed out of the car. “What is this place?”

“It’s like a Dollar General but cheaper.” At Tony’s still baffled look, he said, “You’ve never heard of Dollar General? What about Walmart?”

“Oh, yeah, Walmart,” Tony echoed, making a conscious effort to smooth the look of confusion from his face.  He obediently followed Bucky around the store with a shopping cart, wincing at the squeaky wheel that announced his progress through the store and using his best poker face to keep from wrinkling his nose at the musty smell and the crowded, overflowing shelves. When they came up to the register Tony handed over his credit card and prayed that his father hadn’t gotten around to cancelling it yet, because the cash he had in his pocket wouldn’t cover it and they still had to go get groceries.

“You seem like you’ve had some experience with this,” Tony commented as they loaded all of his newly acquired stuff in the trunk.  Bucky had been the one to take the lead, letting Tony push the cart around while he threw stuff into the basket, stuff Tony hadn’t even thought of needing like socks and underwear and spare toothbrushes.  His matter-of-fact attitude about the entire trip had gone a long way to making Tony feel better about not knowing what the hell he was doing.

Bucky snorted. “People like to think it’s all kumbaya out there for gay kids since gay marriage was legalized, but I know plenty of people that got kicked out of their homes for being gay or trans. So yeah, I’ve done this a time or two.”

Tony couldn’t help but wonder if maybe that was part of his dad’s problem with him going back to school, like maybe Howard thought that if Tony came home to work at SI he would settle down into respectable heterosexuality with some high society debutante.  “Did it happen to you?” He blurted as they got into the car.

“No, my parents were really cool about it when I came out,” Bucky answered, apparently not bothered by the fact that Tony had pretty much just asked him if he were gay.  “Where to now? Grocery store?”

“Yes please.”  As Bucky cranked the car, Tony took a deep breath and said, “By the way, I’m bi.”

Bucky flashed him a grin as he turned around in his seat to back up the car.  “Nice to meet you, Bi. I’m Bucky.”

“Oh,  _God,_ ” Tony groaned with a short laugh. “Is that what your parents said to you when you came out?”

“Kind of.  When I told my mom I was gay she said, ‘Nice to meet you, Mr. Gay, you look an awful lot like my son Bucky.’”

“Yeah, my parents did not have that reaction,” Tony said with a grimace. His mom had looked confused and cried a little and his dad had locked himself in the office for the rest of the evening, and then they had never really talked about it again.  The one time Tony had brought a guy over for dinner his father left on a ‘sudden’ business trip that ended up lasting the whole weekend; Tony had gotten the message after that.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky said.

Tony shrugged and looked out the window to avoid the sympathy in Bucky’s eyes.  “Not the first time I’ve disappointed my family,” Tony said lightly, flashing a smile he didn’t feel, “and definitely not the last, I’m sure.” 

***

Dinner that night was frozen pizza because it had been on sale at the grocery store.  Tony was chewing dismally through what tasted like damp cardboard when Bucky came up the stairs from the shop.  “Tony?  You’ve got a visitor,” he said as he opened the door, and Tony put down the pizza and wiped his fingers on his pants nervously as he stood.

“Oh, Jarvis!” He said in relief.  “I didn’t know you were coming. Let me help you.”  Jarvis’s hands were full so he took the boxes and bags from him, hurriedly cleaning his cheap thin-crust pizza from the table for him to sit.  Jarvis accepted the seat with an almost silent sigh, rubbing his knee a little after the climb up the stairs. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Bucky offered from the kitchen, discreetly trying to straighten up the small apartment for their unexpected guest.

“No, thank you, I shan’t be long,” Jarvis offered with a polite smile.  “I was just bringing some things for Tony as a housewarming present.”

“Like what?” Tony asked curiously, and started digging through the bags.  “Oh my God, you brought me food,” he said with reverence, opening the lid to one of the storage containers and wanting to cry from the smells inside.

“Your mother also sent along some things,” Jarvis said, handing him a small box that was undeniably his mom’s, Tiffany blue and edged in silver.

“Oh.” Tony started to open it and hesitated, then closed the lid. “Thank you.”

“How are you doing?” Jarvis’s hands crossed and he leaned over the table, the lines around his eyes creased with worry.  “Howard is being stubborn and pretending that nothing has changed, but the rest of us are worrying.”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, trying to sound fine and not like he was terrified or homesick or lonely. “I like it here.  It will be close to my degree program when class starts in the fall.”

“Good.  You’ve already sent in your application?”

“It’s not due until February, but I’m not worried.”  Kind of a lie.  He was a bit worried, but it kind of seemed that a bit worried was just his life now, so what’s one more thing.

Jarvis smiled.  “No, I imagine not.”  He patted Tony on the shoulder, his knuckles swollen with arthritis. “I can’t stay long, I have dinner plans with Ana, but I did want to say that I’m proud of you for not letting Howard bully you.”

“Thanks, Jarvis. Say hello to Ana for me.”  Tony walked Jarvis back to his car and watched him drive away, taking a moment to feel sorry for himself before he headed back up the stairs.  He missed Ana and Jarvis with a physical ache; they had been the ones to make the Stark house a home, and he wanted to have that back so badly it hurt. Eventually though, he forced himself to go back up the stairs and help Bucky put the food in the fridge. “Have you eaten?” He asked, cracking the lid on one of the glass dishes.  “Want some of this homemade lasagna?”

“You had me at homemade,” Bucky said with a crooked smile and turned to pull a couple of plates out of the cabinets.  “Who was that? An uncle? He seemed nice.”

“Old family friend, though I did call him uncle when I was younger.  Kind of like Aunt Peggy, but Jarvis is more like a dad than anything else.  Better than my real one, most days,” he muttered under his breath, making a face as he put a slice of lasagna on each plate to reheat.  “So how was your day?”

After dinner and dishes, Tony debated opening the box from his mother, chewing on his thumb as he studied it.  After a moment, though, he put it in the bottom of the closet, not really emotionally ready for whatever was inside; probably some sort of emotional blackmail, like heartfelt letters from his dad when he was young or something.  Instead he pulled his laptop out and tried to relax by reviewing his application to the Tanden School, which required a thesis project proposal along with the usual essay.  Until recently, he’d been reviewing some of his father’s old scrapped designs with the idea that it would endear the old man to the idea of another doctorate, for all the good that’d done.  He’d been particularly excited to work on the arc reactor, hoping to make it more efficient and preferably smaller, but now just looking at the blueprints were making him angry all over again. 

With a sigh he set his computer on the floor next to the bed and fell back against the pillows. Out in the living room he could hear Bucky watching a movie and wondered if he’d be imposing if he went out to join him. To be honest, though, he wasn’t sure that he felt like the company anyway, so he rolled over and eventually fell asleep.


	3. Step 3: Get a Job

The next morning Bucky came into the kitchen for breakfast and made a face at the funky smell.  He found Tony was sitting at the table, determinedly eating his way through what looked and smelled like burnt, rubbery eggs. 

“Breakfast mishap?” Bucky said, smothering a smile as he went to the pantry for cereal. 

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, poking at the eggs.

“If you would like someone to show you around the kitchen, I can,” Bucky said as grabbed a bowl from the cabinets. “I used to make breakfast for my sister all the time.”

Tony washed down the eggs with a large swallow of coffee.  “I used to sit with Jarvis in the kitchen while he cooked, so I thought I knew what I was doing.  Turns out it’s a lot harder than it looks.”

“Try doing it one handed,” Bucky joked without thinking, and winced.  He snuck a glance at Tony but Tony was just looking mournfully down at his plate.  He’d been waiting for Tony to say something about his missing arm, to at least  _ask_ , and waiting for the inevitable awkward questions was making him anxious.  More anxious than usual.

“I couldn’t even crack the eggs right, I  _know_  you should be at least able to do that one handed.”  Bucky looked in the trash can and sure enough, there were a handful of destroyed eggs along with a ridiculous amount of paper towels.

“You’ll get the hang of it.”  He sat down at the table with his bowl and smiled at Tony’s downturned mouth as he gazed covetously at Bucky’s breakfast.

With a sigh, Tony managed to force down the last bite of eggs and pushed his plate away.  “Speaking of fixing things,” he said, clearing his throat and fiddling with his fork. “I don’t suppose you need any help in your garage?”

“You got experience working on cars?” Bucky said in surprise.  Nothing about Tony screamed “blue collar” much less “grease monkey,” but he should know better than to judge people by their looks.

“Not professionally, but I’ve been working on my dad’s cars for years.”  Tony must have realized that he was fidgeting because he flattened his palms on the table and met Bucky’s eyes.  “I know we just met, but I was thinking if you just let me show you what I can do…you know what, I’m sorry,” he said, pushing back from the table and standing. “It was a dumb idea, you’ve already helped me enough-”

“No, stop,” Bucky said, grabbing Tony’s hand before he could turn away.  “It’s not a dumb idea.  There are jobs that I can’t take because of, you know, my arm, so I could probably use another pair of hands. One whole pair of hands.  You know what I mean.” He let go of Tony and ran his hand over the back of his neck.  “Just come down whenever, or I can just get you when I have something for you to do.”

“Great!” Tony brightened like Bucky just made his day, and for some stupid reason Bucky felt himself blush so he turned back to his cereal and hoped Tony didn’t notice.  “I’ll just grab my laptop and come downstairs in a little while.”

“Sure, sounds good,” Bucky said in what he hoped was an offhand manner and prayed that this wouldn’t turn out to be a really dumb idea.

 

Bucky’s business was not what you would call ‘booming’ these days; having to do everything one-handed made him slow and limited the types of repairs he could do, and most of the people in the neighborhood already knew that by now.  He had one guy come by to change out his battery, which he suspected was more of a charity thing than anything else, and a couple of people came in for inspections.  Bucky was about to apologize to Tony for wasting his day when a guy in a suit came striding up his driveway, shouting into his cell phone.

“Hold on a second,” he said to the person on the other line, and muted the call to speak to Bucky.  “You’re a mechanic, right?  My car started making this ticking sound on the highway and when I got off on the exit, it just shut off at the intersection.”

“What kind of car is it?” Bucky was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to help this guy because it sounded like a fuel pump problem, but it was worth a shot.

“It’s a 2016 Jaguar XJ,” the man said, and Bucky started to open his mouth and admit that he didn’t know anything about Jags when Tony jumped down off the work bench he’d been perched on.

“I might be able to help you,” he said.  “How far away is it?”

“Just down the street.”

Tony gestured for him to lead the way and out of sheer curiosity, Bucky quickly locked up the shop and followed.  The man returned to his phone call, apparently more than happy to ignore them both as Tony popped the hood and took a look.

“Do you have any idea what it might be?” Bucky said in a low voice as Tony leaned into the engine compartment. 

“Yeah,” Tony answered absently.  “People haven’t been buying Jags as much these days because of the economy, so in order to keep from having to raise prices too much or, god forbid, reduce the salaries of the senior employees, they’ve been getting cheap on the parts.”  He reached down and started fiddling with something Bucky couldn’t see from his angle.  “Will you grab some stuff from the shop?” Bucky nodded and Tony gave him a handful of things to bring back. When he returned it only took Tony about thirty minutes of fiddling in the engine while Bucky handed him tools before he took a step back and was closing the hood. 

“Give it a try,” he said to the driver, who got behind the wheel. It cranked up with no problem and Tony smiled in satisfaction.  “The fix will get you another couple hundred miles,” Tony said to the driver through the window, who seemed to be barely paying attention, still intent on his phone.  “But you should take it to your dealer, it should still be under warranty.”

“How much do I owe you?”  The man said, tossing the phone on the side seat as he reached for his wallet. 

Tony looked to Bucky, who took a gamble and said, “Two hundred for an onsite service call, since we had to close the shop.”  Bucky halfway expected him to protest because Tony only worked on the car for about thirty minutes, but the man pulled out four fifty dollar bills without protesting, which kinda made Bucky wish he’d asked for more.

“Good work,” Bucky said in surprise as they watched the Jag drive away, purring like it just came off the lot.

“Thanks.  I used to tell my friends that I was good at three things: drinking, fucking, and fixing things,” Tony said, surprising a laugh out of Bucky.

“Drinking, fucking, and fixing things, huh?” Bucky said as he turned to go back to the garage. “Are you as good at fucking and drinking as you are at fixing things?”

“Better,” Tony said with a lewd wink as he flipped a wrench into the air. He tried to catch it and missed as it came down, wink turning into a wince as it clattered loudly on the sidewalk.

“Smooth,” Bucky said, smiling. He took one of the fifties that the man had given them for repairing his car and put the rest in the cash drawer.  “Let’s knock off early and go get a drink.”

He led them to a tiny, hole in the wall bar called, somewhat ironically, _The Yacht Club,_ that was only four blocks away. “This is my favorite place drink,” Bucky said. “Well,” he amended as he pulled the door open for Tony, “It's kind of my only place to drink. I don't tend to wander very far from home these days.”  Going more than a mile from his house usually sparked a panic attack that only got worse the farther away he went, but he didn't want to sound like a nutcase so he kept that part to himself.

As they went to sit at a booth near the bar, Tony was acting like he never seen a place like this before, running a hand over the scarred wooden tables and picking at the cracking fake leather of the seats.  In honor of the bar’s name, the décor was beach themed with pirate accents;  Bucky looked around and saw it as Tony must be seeing it and realized that objectively speaking, it was probably a bit of a dump. But it was a dive bar, a locals bar, with great food and a beer tap that rotated just enough to say interesting without attracting too many of the hipsters that were invading the neighborhoods of New York. 

“Bucky, you son of a bitch, I thought I told you never to come to this bar again.”  Bucky was pulled from his thoughts as a man came up and threw an arm around him with affection.

“You told me to never come to this bar again unless I was bringing somebody who could actually drink,” Bucky corrected.  Bucky was usually on a one or two drink limit because of his meds, and though Sam knew that he still liked to give him a hard time.  “So that's what I did,” he said, gesturing to Tony.

“Oh yeah?” Sam looked at Tony with interest and Bucky noticed curiously that Tony seemed to tense but smiled politely anyway under his scrutiny.  “I'm Sam, the main bartender here,” Sam said, holding out his hand.

Tony relaxed as he shook Sam’s hand. “I’m Tony.  

“Tony is my new roommate and co-worker,” Bucky explained. “Today was his first day on the job so I brought him here to celebrate. The food here is amazing, if you are hungry,” he said to Tony.

“Yeah our cook is a visionary,” Sam added. “Not good with people but a magician in the kitchen.”  Interest piqued, Tony reached for the menu.  At this point anything would be better than more frozen dinners; they'd run out of Jarvis's meals last week.  “I’ll give you a minute to decide,” Sam said, and gave Bucky one more clap on the back before he left.  “Nice to meet you, Tony.”

“So I keep hearing that you are planning to go to school in the fall,” Bucky commented as Tony looked over the menu. “What are you going to study?”

“Mechanical engineering, hopefully,” Tony said. “I would like to go into clean energy, I think.  Or robotics, I haven’t decided.”

“A Master’s?”

“Uh, well,” Tony cleared his throat. “A PhD, actually.”

“Oh, wow,” Bucky sat back with a smile. “Impressive.”

“It will be my second,” he admitted. “It’s why my dad kicked me out.”

“Really? For wanting another doctorate?” 

 “Yeah, he said I was just wasting time instead of helping with the family business.”   Tony ran a hand over the back of his neck.  “Which might be a little true, but not for the reason he thinks.  He thinks I’m, I don’t know, lazy or something, but the truth is that I just don’t think our company is in the right business.” 

Bucky waited for him to continue, but Tony just shrugged and smiled apologetically, clearly unable or unwilling to say more. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that about your dad, but the PhD thing does explain a lot, though,” Bucky said, waving for Sam to come back.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“Like why you don’t know how to cook but you can fix a Jag with some duct tape and a clothes hanger.”  They placed their order, two loaded burgers with a couple of beers, and Sam wandered off again and came back after a moment with their drinks.

“Cheers to your first day of work,” Bucky said, tapping his glass against Tony’s.

“Cheers,” Tony repeated, taking a sip. "So, how about you? Have you thought about going back to school or are you happy with the mechanics shop?"

Bucky snorted.  "Nah, I got my bachelors in history while I was in the Army because I was going to try to become an officer one day."  He gestured wryly to his shoulder.  "But things didn't really work out.  Nowadays the thought of going back to school..." Bucky grimaced.  Even if he got into a program, which would be difficult enough, he could imagine being in class with a bunch of people who were ostentatiously trying not to stare at him, or having to constantly find workarounds for only having one arm, or having to commute so far outside his comfort zone.  Even the idea of dealing with papers and deadlines and presentations made him sweat just thinking about it.  "Just sounds exhausting,” he finished.

"I can see that," Tony said, which Bucky thought was rich coming from a guy going for his second doctorate. Bucky's skepticism must have showed on his face because Tony protested. "Hey, I hated writing papers," he said.  "All of the English and History prerequisites, even for a science degree, were horrible.  My roommate Rhodey is the only reason why I passed those classes."

"If you say so." Bucky took a sip of his beer.  “I liked writing essays. I wasn’t too shabby at math, but history was definitely one of my favorite subjects.”  Bucky told Tony about this one essay he wrote on the impact of snipers in World War 2, and Tony shared some of his dad’s anecdotes from working with the military, and when Same brought their food over, he got drawn into the discussion from his experience with the Air Force.  The bar was slow enough that Sam was able to sit down with them and talk, which was when Tony found out that Sam had a day job with the local Veteran’s Affairs center.

“But enough about me,” Sam said, leaning over the table to study Tony with a mischievous look in his eye. “Let’s talk about you.”

“Sam,” Bucky said warningly, apparently knowing what he was about to say, but Sam ignored him.  

“Are you seeing anyone?”

“Uh,” Tony glanced at Bucky in confusion, but he was hiding his face in his hand and was therefore no help. “No?”

“No?” Sam echoed, sounding pleased.  “Hear that, Bucky? You know, Bucky here’s not seeing anyone either,” Sam said over Bucky’s embarrassed groan.

“Go away, Sam,” Bucky said, voice muffled by his hand.  “You’re not helping.”

Bucky couldn’t see the slow grin of unholy amusement that came over Sam’s face at that, but Tony knew that Bucky had just fucked up. “ _Helping,_ huh,” he said, and Sam’s tone made Bucky’s eyes fly up in alarm.

“Sam-” he warned again, but Sam just talked right over him.

“Helping implies that there’s something to help,” Sam said musingly, stroking his chin thoughtfully.  Then his eyes widened. “Oh my God, I’m crashing your date.  This is your first date, isn’t it?” As Bucky started to protest, Sam slid out from the booth.  “I’m so sorry, you guys get back to your awkward first date conversation.”

“This isn’t a date!” Bucky called out to his receding back.

“What was that?” Sam called back. “One slice of chocolate cake for the lovebirds? Ok, coming right up!” 

Tony could see that Bucky’s face was getting red and knew he was blushing to match. “I’m so sorry,” Bucky said.  “Sam likes to think he's funny."

“It’s fine,” Tony said.  He wanted to say, _I mean, it could be a date if you wanted it to be,_ but he didn’t know if that would make it worse, and anyway, they were living together and working together, so dating would be too much, right?  He sighed internally and plastered on a reassuring grin. “My friends are the same way.”  The silence between them was awkward for a minute then Tony said, “But we’re staying for the cake, right? That wasn’t just a joke?”

“Well, yeah we’re staying for the cake,” Bucky said as if that were obvious. “I mean, free cake.”


	4. Step 4: More Basic Adulting

“Tony? Did you run the dishwasher this morning?” Bucky asked in an odd voice.  The kind of voice that sounded like he already knew the answer but he just wanted Tony to admit guilt first before chewing him out.

“Uh, yeah?”  The bottom dropped out of Tony’s stomach as he and joined Bucky in the kitchen where he was staring down into the dishwasher. He looked at the dishwasher too but didn’t see a problem.  “Why?”

Bucky stared at him in disbelief.  “There’s like, five dishes in here.”

“It was my turn to do the dishes,” Tony said defensively.  “So I did them.”

“Well, yeah, thanks for that, but don’t run the dishwasher unless it’s full.  That’s a huge waste of water,” Bucky said slowly, making Tony feel like even more of an idiot.  “If you do that after every meal our water bill is going to be astronomical.”

“Oh. I didn’t think about that, I’m sorry.”

“Why don’t you-” Bucky stopped and pressed his lips together into a thin line.  He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly and exhaled even more slowly.  “I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I get these, you know, days where I feel really anxious and stressed out and it makes me…” he drummed his fingers on the counter. “Snappish, I guess. Pissy.”

Tony stared for a minute. “It’s okay,” he said, confused about why Bucky was apologizing.  Howard had never apologized, not even the time he had given Tony that scar on the bottom of his chin.  “I’ll do better next time, I promise”

“How about from now on, I load the dishwasher, and you do whatever is left in the sink and wipe down the counters?”

“Sure, yeah, sounds good.” He paused, watching Bucky as he started to grab the few dishes out of the dishwasher and said hesitantly, “Are you feeling stressed out right now?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know.”  Bucky’s movements were jerky and his shoulders were tight, so Tony put a hand on his arm.

“Hey, I’ll straighten this up,” he said, taking the plates from Bucky’s hands.  “Is there something you usually do when you feel like this?”

Bucky let him have the plates and sighed, leaning against the counter and running his hand through his hair.  “Yeah, my therapist gave me tips to deal with days like today.”

“Well, then go do what you need to do, I got this.  I’ll even open up the garage if you want, just come down when you’re ready.”

Bucky nodded gratefully and disappeared into his bedroom.  Tony put the dishes away and wiped everything down until he was pretty sure that even Jarvis would be impressed, then went down to the garage.

Tony opened up the big metal garage doors so he could hear and see the pounding of the rain outside; it had been the sound of the rain on Bucky’s roof that had woken him up that morning, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Tony felt at peace while he laid there and listened to it.  They didn’t have any cars in yet, so as Tony surveyed the shop he figured that if there was one thing he could clean properly, it was a garage, so he metaphorically rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a shop cloth, and got to work.  He made it halfway through the tool cabinet when his phone rang, so he wiped his hands on his jeans and answered. “Hey, Rhodey, what’s up?” he said cheerfully.

“Not much. How are you doing?  Sleeping in your car or did you find a place to stay?”

“I found a place to stay,” Tony said, straightening all the socket wrenches so they were lined up neatly according to size. “I found a guy renting out a room who also owns a garage, so I found a place to stay and a job all in one.”

“Oh, yeah?” Tony could tell that Rhodey’s attention had been piqued by something from the way his tone sharpened. “Tell me about this guy.”

“Not much to say,” Tony said, suddenly wary.  He found a couple of lug wrenches leaning against the bench so he hung them up on the wall. “His name is Bucky and it’s his family’s business, he bought them out when he got out of the Army.”

“So he’s cute.” 

“What?” Tony protested as he started separating the spanners from the adjustable wrenches. “I never said that.”

“You just did.  Methinks you are protesting too much.”

“Methinks you are an asshole,” Tony muttered.

“Let me guess. Is he tall?”

Tony sighed because he was so busted. “Yes.”

“Dark hair?”

“Yes.”

“And military, huh?”

“Ok, look, I don’t know where you are going with this-“

“Just saying, Tones, you have a type.”  Tony could hear Rhodey’s grin through the phone and he scowled.

“I never should have told you I had a crush on you in college,” Tony complained. “I take back all the nice things I’ve ever said about you.”

“Nah, you still love me.  So how’s everything else going?”

 

It wasn’t much more than a couple of hours before Bucky came downstairs to find Tony organizing and wiping down everything on the tool bench.  The radio was on, playing something soft and low, and Tony was humming along, swaying gently to the music. Bucky whistled, impressed by how nice the garage looked. 

Tony looked up, and his smile made Bucky’s heart turn over in his chest.  Tony’s smile was rapidly becoming something that Bucky looked forward to every day. “Hey, Buck.  Feeling better?”

Bucky shrugged.  “Rainy days are usually not the best for me,” he said, trying and probably failing to sound casual.  “It was raining like this when, you know,” he gestured towards his empty sleeve.  For some reason, when Tony’s eyes went soft and sympathetic it made him feel understood, not patronized.  Perhaps because his look didn’t immediately turn to morbid curiosity.

“I’m sorry, B,” he said simply.  “I’m glad you’re feeling up to working today, but if you need to go back upstairs, I can-”

“No, I’m fine,” Bucky said, not wanting to seem like an invalid.  “I mean, a while ago I would have been spending all day in bed with a rainstorm like this, but it’s…” he wanted to say  _fine_ , but it wasn’t, really, he still couldn’t go out in the rain and listening to it drumming on the sidewalk was making the hair on the back of his neck rise.  “Better.”

Tony smiled at him and patted the now clean work bench.  “Have a seat, I made coffee,” he said, and he turned up the music so the rain didn’t seem quite as loud.

“You know how the Middle East gets these like, huge dust storms?” Bucky said as he accepted the cup from Tony.  “This one time while I was in Iraq we had a dust storm and a rain storm at the same time.”

“So it became a mud storm?”

“Yeah.  Raining mud.”  Bucky took a sip of coffee, eyes far away. “God, that was miserable. Mud in your clothes, your hair, the way you tracked it everywhere you went. You would go take a shower and be muddy again by the time you got back to your CHU.”

“Jesus, that sounds horrible,” Tony said, making a face.  “Must be kind of nice now, to be able to listen to it and know that you can stay inside, safe and warm and cozy.”

“That’s true,” Bucky said slowly. He hadn’t really thought about it that way before, but knowing that if the sound of the rain got to be too much he could go get on the couch under a blanket and know that someone was around to still take care of things actually made him feel better.  “Thanks.”

 

 It didn’t take long for them to fall into a sort of easy rhythm of living together; Tony still screwed up basic chores sometimes, like using the sponge for the dishes to scrub the bathroom or putting dishwashing liquid in the dishwasher when they were out of the little dishwasher pods, and there was that one time the vacuum was making a weird sound so Bucky woke up one morning to find it completely disassembled in their living room, but Tony was grateful that Bucky never blew up at him about any of it. In return, trying to make up for the fact that Bucky had pretty much given him a whole new life, Tony tried to find ways to make things easier on Bucky around the house.  He repurposed a clamp from the garage to help Bucky open jars and mounted a shampoo dispenser in the bathroom when Bucky complained one night that he had accidentally dumped too much shampoo in his hair in the shower.

Mostly he puttered because he genuinely wanted to be helpful, but it didn't hurt that italso distracted him from the looming issue of his grad school application; the truth was, he’d lost all inspiration for the projects he’d been so excited about before.  Ironic for him to do all of this, the fight and moving out and everything, only for nothing to come of it because he couldn’t figure out what the hell to do for his proposal.

 Tony stared fruitlessly at his computer, fisting his hands in his hair with frustration.   All of the ideas he’d had a month ago that seemed so rife with possibilities were just…blah. “Dammit,” Tony sighed.  At the corner of his draft paper he drew a stick figure with sunglasses and then drew a big missile flying at him and flames all around.

Just then Bucky knocked and said through the door, “There are new episodes of that cop show you like, do you want to watch it with me?”

“Sure, just a second,” Tony called back and shut his laptop.  He crammed the papers in his desk so he wouldn't have to look at them anymore and joined Bucky in the living room.

"I’m sorry, where you working?” Bucky asked as he came out, pushing the button on the microwave for popcorn.

 “Only in theory,” Tony sighed as he grabbed two beers from the fridge.  “Still having problems with my application.” He’d complained about his lack of inspiration for his proposal enough times that he didn’t bother going through it again. 

Bucky made a sympathetic face and said, “That sucks. Maybe some time off will help.”

“Can't hurt, I guess,” Tony said.  Bucky dumped the popcorn into a bowl and joined him on the couch as Tony hit play on the TV.  They didn’t talk much during the episode but the silence was comfortable, a far cry from the stilted few times that they’d hung out when Tony had first moved in.  

Glancing over halfway through the second episode, Tony realized that Bucky had fallen asleep leaning against the arm of the couch with his feet on the coffee table.  Tony smiled and leaned over to tuck the blanket over Bucky and settled back against the couch.  After the episode, the app automatically played another episode, this time from a different series.  Too lazy and comfortable to get up and get the remote, Tony was idly watching MacGyver when an idea occurred to him. He stilled and turned the idea over in his head, examining it from all angles.  “Holy shit,” he breathed. He carefully climbed off the couch so he wouldn’t wake up Bucky and tiptoed quickly to his room before the inspiration was gone.  Sometime in the middle of the night he came out for something to drink, shaking out his cramping hand, and noticed that Bucky must have gone to bed.  Finally, at the small hours of the morning, he put his pencil down and flipped through the pages and pages of schematics and diagrams and notes with satisfaction.   Not only would the new arc reactor design turn the clean energy market on its head, but Howard hadn’t made any breakthroughs on it in decades so when Tony showed him up he was going to look like a real asshole. Bonus.

 

“Wakey, wakey,” Tony said, knocking on Bucky’s door. When he answered, looking adorably sleep-rumpled and kind of grumpy, his heart flipped and he knew he probably had a stupid look on his face, but at this point he was too proud of himself to care. “I made you an omelet,” he said, presenting the plate to Bucky. “Took me three hours, but I did it.”

“This looks amazing,” Bucky said sincerely. “Let me put on a shirt and I’ll be right out.”

“Oh, uh…” Tony had been so excited he hadn’t even noticed that Bucky was only wearing a pair of boxers and nothing else; it occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever seen Bucky shirtless, and  _damn._   “Sure,” he said, jerking his eyes back up to Bucky’s face, hoping his voice didn’t sound squeaky. “I’ll just, um, be in the kitchen.  There’s coffee, too,” he babbled as he backed away. “And OJ, and, uh…”

“Coffee sounds great,” Bucky said with a small smile. The smile told Tony that Bucky noticed that he was checking him out and that realization made his face burn.  He made his escape and was tempted to stick his face in the freezer to try to cool it off, but instead he just sat down at the table and thought about car engines until all of the inappropriate reactions subsided.

“So what’s the occasion?” Bucky said as he came to sit down at the kitchen table.  “You’re up early.”

“I am actually up late, I didn’t sleep.  But I wanted to celebrate because I submitted my grad school application!” Tony said proudly, doing a little drumroll on the kitchen table.

“That’s amazing, Tony! Congratulations!  So you finished your proposal and everything?”  Bucky sounded so sincerely happy for him that Tony found himself blushing again.

"Yeah, I had a breakthrough last night while we were watching that movie, and then all of the ideas just wouldn’t stop coming.”  Last night it had seemed like his hands couldn’t keep up with his brain; in a flash of inspiration, he had suddenly seen the arc reactor and everything that needed to be done to make it smaller and more efficient and all of its potential applications, and after that it felt like the proposal had written itself.

“That’s really impressive, Tony.  I appreciate the omelet, but with news like that, I should be making breakfast for you,” Bucky teased, gently poking Tony in the arm with his fork before he took a bite of the omelet.

“Well, I was already up,” Tony said with a shrug, making a mental reminder to buy more eggs since he’d gone through half the carton trying to make this.

“Dinner, then," Bucky said around a mouthful of food.  "What’s your favorite food?”

“Oh, uh…” Tony stalled as his brain went through food that was actually possible for a amateur chef to make; somehow he didn’t think Bucky would be up for seared swordfish or a white truffle risotto.  “Spaghetti,” he said finally.  Howard hated spaghetti so all of Tony’s memories of it came from eating it in the kitchen with Jarvis and Ana, and sometimes his mom snuck into the kitchen to eat it too if Howard was busy.

“Spaghetti it is, then,” Bucky said with a soft smile.  He speared another bite of omelet. “So what’s the next step?”

“Financial aid, I guess,” Tony said glumly.  The prospect seemed a little daunting; it was going to take some research just to figure out the first step.

“I don’t know how helpful I would be, but if you need anything, just ask.”

“I really appreciate it, but you’ve already done so much for me,” Tony said.  “You gave me a place to stay, a job-”

“C’mon, Tony, you’ve earned all of that stuff,” Bucky said, waving off Tony’s words.  “It’s not like you aren’t paying for the room or earning your keep down at the garage.”

“I know, but…”  Tony didn’t know how to put into words the feeling that Bucky had opened up his entire life to Tony and welcomed him into it, giving him stability and a sense of purpose.  Bucky had been patient with Tony’s myriad fuck-ups and encouraged him when he was down about his application and he was funny and he thought  _Tony_ was funny and- “Oh, shit,” he blurted, eyes widening.

“What?” Bucky asked curiously, scraping up the last of his omelet.

 _I’ve got a crush on you._   “I forgot to return a call yesterday,” Tony said, which was true; his mom had called him last night and he hadn’t even heard the phone ring because he was so busy with his proposal.  “I’ll go, uh, do that, and I’ll see you downstairs.”       


	5. Step 5: Get Married (??)

A few weeks later, Tony was sitting at the table working on his computer while Bucky read a book on the couch, low music playing on the radio.  Then Bucky heard a sharp inhale. “Oh shit,” Tony blurted with a strangled sound.  Bucky’s eyes flew up and Tony looked at him nervously.  “I got an email from the school.”

“Okay,” Bucky said slowly, and when Tony just stared at him, he laughed in disbelief.  “What, are you afraid you didn’t get in?”

“It’s a competitive school,” Tony said defensively, hunching his shoulders.

Bucky put his book down to throw a pillow at him.  “Just open it, you nutcase, you know you got in.”

Tony clicked the button on his touchpad like it was pulling the trigger in Russian roulette.  Bucky watched his eyes move over the screen, and then the fear turned into confusion.  “What is it?” Bucky asked.  “You’re making a funny face.”

“I’m not sure I understand.  Listen to this: ‘This isn’t a proposal, this is a finished thesis,’” Tony read aloud. “’The idea of a proposal is that you aren’t sure if it’s going to work or not.  This is a fully completed schematic.  I would suggest submitting it to the patent office pronto and think of something else to study.’ That’s from the dean of the engineering school I applied to.”  He lowered the lid of his laptop and met Bucky’s disbelieving gaze.  “Whoops.  Now what do I do?”

Bucky bookmarked his page and sat up. “Well, what were you going to use it for?”

“I don’t know. Anything that needs energy, really.  I mean, it will be about the size of a coaster but thicker, so not like a cell phone but a car, or a house, something like that.”  Tony scratched his chin.  “I guess it could be fun to design a car around the arc reactor.”  His eyes got wide as another thought occurred to him. “I bet I could make it  _fly,_ ” he whispered to himself with awe.

“There you go,” Bucky said, smothering a laugh.  “Just try not to design the whole thing until  _after_  you start.  You know, to make it look like you actually need this school,” he added, voice so heavy with irony it probably made the air magnetic.

Tony stuck his tongue out and went back to the email.  “Do you know what FAFSA is?”

“Yeah, it’s the application for financial aid.  I think the website is like fafsa.org or fafsa.gov or something like that, it’s pretty easy to do.”

“Did you have to do this? When you went to college?”

“No, the military paid my way, one of the perks.”  When Tony just nodded distractedly, Bucky went back to his book.  There were long minutes of Tony typing and muttering to himself, frowning at his computer, then Tony made a sound of frustration.

“God _dammit,_ ” Tony cursed and stood to pace around the kitchen.  “That just fucking figures.”  When Bucky looked up at him curiously Tony said, “I can’t get financial aid because of my father.  He makes too much money.” Tony jerked open the refrigerator and stared moodily into the contents, then slammed the door closed and started pacing again.

“I’m sorry, Tony, that’s one of the big drawbacks to the system,” Bucky said sympathetically.  “Unfortunately there are only a few ways to get around that.  You can go through a long legal process to emancipate yourself, which would be kind of weird because you’re over 18.  Or you can join the military – not the best idea, but they would eventually pay for you to go to school, no loans required – or you get married.  They don’t ask for your parent’s income if you’re married.”

“Great.” Tony sat back down at the table and rubbed his eyes. “So I’m screwed.”

“You might be able to get a personal loan from the bank,” Bucky suggested.  “I don’t know how much they would give you, but it’s worth a shot, right?”

“Sure,” Tony said, blowing out a breath.  Maybe the Stark name would be enough collateral for a bank loan, then it would actually be good for something.

 

It wasn’t.

“Thank you for your time,” Tony said with as much of a smile as he could manage when he was screaming internally out of frustration.  He stood and shook hands with the apologetic banker and left the bank, seething.

 _No luck,_  he texted Bucky as he walked back to his car.

_Oh no that fucking sucks I’m sorry. Y?_

_No credit history, not enough income, wanted my dad to cosign._ Then Tony put a series of angry emoticons and got back in his car.  He rested his head on the steering wheel for a long time, pressing his palms to his eyes and concentrating on breathing.  As he’d figured, the banker had looked puzzled at the very idea of Tony Stark asking for a personal loan, and Tony’d had to grit his teeth and swallow his pride when reporting his income and assets.  All for nothing, in the end.  He knew there were others that he could ask for help – Aunt Peggy would be more than happy to cosign for him, if only to piss off Howard – but he could just imagine Howard’s reaction to  _that._   It didn’t count as making it on his own if he just went begging to someone else for the money.

“Scholarships,” Tony said to himself as he turned the engine on.  Maybe it’s not too late to apply for scholarships.

When he got home, Bucky already had a beer opened for him and a pot of spaghetti on the stove.  Tony smiled tiredly but gratefully and let Bucky pull him into a hug and then gently push him into a seat at the table.  Tony didn’t try to make conversation while Bucky puttered around in the kitchen, he just sat in a companionable silence and sipped at the cheap beer as Bucky put their plates on the table. 

He had barely picked up his fork when Bucky took a deep breath and said, “Look, I know you are really disappointed about today, so maybe this isn’t the best time to bring this up again, but...” Tony cocked his head in confusion while Bucky fiddled with his fork.  “Remember what I said about the FAFSA, and ways to get around that income thing?  This might sound crazy, but what if…we got married?”

“Got married?” Tony echoed, staring at him blankly.

Bucky shrugged with unconvincing casualness.  “Yeah. I mean, it occurred to me today that I would actually get more money from the VA if I were married because they would consider you a dependent, so…Win-win, right?”

 He stared at Bucky and thought about the fact that if he would just go and apologize to his dad, agree to work at SI and forget about this degree, he could pay off Bucky’s entire mortgage and make sure that Bucky never needed to worry about money again, wouldn’t have to  _work_ again. Instead, Bucky was sitting here suggesting more ways that  _he_  could help  _Tony_ and making it sound like Tony would be doing him a favor. Tony buried his head in his hands, fisting his fingers in his hair.  “Bucky, that’s…”  _Insane. Way too much._ “It just seems like a – a big step.”          

“But it’s not, really,” Bucky said earnestly.  “We just sign the paperwork, you can fill out your financial aid application, and in like a year or so we file for a no-fault divorce.”

Sure, he made it sound so easy, but that’s just because he didn’t know the truth.   _Christ,_  Tony thought, tugging on his hair until his scalp stung, and cleared his throat. “Look, Bucky, um…I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“Okay?”

“My name isn’t Tony Edwards.  My real last name is Stark.  Tony Edward, um, Stark.”  There was a long silence and when Tony looked up he saw a look of polite confusion on Bucky’s face.  “Stark as in Stark Industries,” he explained, and then he saw a cascading series of realizations move across Bucky’s expressive face.

“Oh,” he said as he put two and two together and got a net worth of billions of dollars. “ _Oh,_ ” he said with a frown when he remembered Tony’s story about being kicked out of his home. Then there was a third and final soft “oh…” when he realized what that meant for himself.

“Yeah,” Tony said and then it was quiet for a while.

“Well,” Bucky said slowly.  “I can’t say that I’m not…feeling…surprised. And…maybe, a little, uh, upset. But, given what I know about you and your, um, situation, I can understand why you would hide…that.”

“Yeah.”

“So does that mean you want, like, a prenup or something?” Bucky said after another long moment of charged silence.  “Because, unless I’m missing something, it doesn’t really change your situation right now, does it? I mean, your asshole rich dad is, uh, a lot richer than expected, but…still an asshole.”

“No, I didn’t say that because I wanted a _prenup_ ,” Tony protested. “I trust you. But I, um, wanted to make sure you knew  what you were getting into with this whole marriage idea.”

“I get it, it just doesn’t change my mind.” When Tony didn’t say anything to that, Bucky started digging into his spaghetti.  “So just think about it and let me know, ok?”    

Tony blinked and stared down at his plate.  He could do this, he thought.  They would get married, he’d get his degree, and when he made his fortune with the arc reactor he would pay Bucky back for everything he’d done for him. “Okay,” he said. “Yeah, we’ll give it a shot.” 

***

After everything, filing the paperwork was pretty anticlimactic; Tony felt like he’d had more drama getting his driver’s license.  There was some signing, a stamp, and a polite “congratulations” and then they were walking out of the courthouse technically a married couple.

“So,” Tony said as they stood out on the sidewalk. Bucky kept looking at the paper in his hand as if he felt a little let down.  “Pizza?”

 ***

“So I guess this is technically our wedding night, huh?” Tony looked around at the half-eaten pizza and empty bottle of wine as Bucky scrolled through Netflix trying to find something to watch. “Is it everything you imagined?”

Bucky snorted a laugh.  “I have two sisters, so I always figured I’d be the crazy bachelor uncle,” he said. “The one that brings the cool presents and lets everyone stay up late. You?”

“Never really thought about it," Tony said lightly, which was a lie.  He'd watched Jarvis and Ana together and dream about having the same for himself one day, and then he'd have dinner with his own parents and wonder if it was really possible.  "My parents didn’t really give me a good opinion of marriage, so I kinda figured it wasn’t for me.”

Bucky made a face at that.  “My parents always said that a marriage is what you make of it, so just because your parents’ marriage sucked or whatever doesn’t mean that yours would be the same.”

“Clearly,” Tony said dryly, gesturing around him. “For one, I think my parents would rather die than drink wine out of plastic wine glasses.”

"They don’t know what they are missing,” Bucky said as he gathered their empty cups and dropped them into the trash.  “See? Dishes are already done.”

“A man after my own heart,” Tony said with a smile as he stood to help Bucky clean.  “You know, it’s kind of funny,” Tony commented as he wiped down the counters and Bucky filled up the dishwasher. “Now that I think about it, what we have is already better than my parents’ marriage, and we’re just roommates.”

Bucky’s smile at that was rueful and a little sad.  He closed up the dishwasher and turned it on, then leaned against the counter.  “Come here,” he said with a gesture, and then when Tony was close enough he pulled him into a hug. Tony was stiff for a second, surprised, but he hurriedly brought up his hands to return the hug before Bucky pulled back.  “You deserve better than this,” Bucky said softly.  “Better than a sham marriage and shitty parents and a shitty childhood – “

“It wasn’t _that_ bad,” Tony started to protest, drawing back, but Bucky shook his head.

“Hey, you can grow up with money and privilege and have a shitty childhood, Tony.  Didn’t you tell me that you got sent to boarding school when you were young, and that most of the time your parents just paid for you to stay there over the holidays instead of coming home?  Would you say that your dad yelled at you more than he hugged you?” Tony’s eyes cut away from Bucky’s and he shrugged, uncomfortable with how true all of that was.  “I know this has been hard for you, but really, you are doing great.  One day you’ll be back on your feet without your dad’s money and you can find someone to marry that you love and then you can have a marriage you can be proud of.”

"I'm not - you know, _not_ proud of this," Tony said, and swallowed thickly. “Everything I have is because of you,” Tony managed around the tightness in his throat, staring at Bucky's collarbone intently and trying not to cry.  “You’ve helped me so much-“

“Hey now,” Bucky said, clucking his tongue and cradling Tony’s chin in his hand as the tears spilled over his cheeks.  “Everything you have, you've worked hard for. and we’ve been helping each other, yeah?  I teach you how to boil eggs and you fix up my car so I don't crash trying to use the windshield wipers. I know we started out as roommates but I think we make a good team.”

Tony nodded and swiped at the wetness on his cheeks, embarrassed.  “Thank you,” he said.  “I promise, one day I’ll pay you back for everything, I swear, I owe you so much-”

“Don’t you dare,” Bucky said. "That's not how this works."

"Right." Tony nodded again, smiling wetly. "Because we're a team."

"Exactly."  As Tony turned away to find a tissue for his nose, Bucky said, "But if you're really feeling like you're not pulling your weight around here, you could take my turn cleaning the bathroom."


	6. Step 6: Go Back to School

A couple of weeks later he came out of his room to find Bucky on the couch, buried in a blanket and staring at the dark TV.  “Good morning,” he said cautiously.

Bucky made a noise and as Tony came closer, he said, “I can’t today.”

“Can’t what?”  When Bucky was silent, Tony went over to see that Bucky’s eyes were dull and tired as they looked up at him from under the blanket and hood of his sweatshirt.  He reached over and squeezed Bucky’s shoulder. “Alright, it’s fine. I got it.  I can take care of the shop today.” He started to get up but frowned when he saw the date on his phone.  “Wait, isn’t today doctor day?” he asked.  When Bucky just grunted, Tony squeezed his shoulder again.  “Hey, I know these days are grueling, but you always feel better when you’re done, right? So how about we just close the shop for the day and I’ll drive you everywhere you need to go.”  When Bucky didn’t respond, Tony tried a different tack. “If you don’t go today, you’re going to need to call and cancel and reschedule,” he said, smothering a smile when he saw Bucky’s glare.  “It’s easier to just go,” he wheedled. “You don’t even need to talk to me, I’ll just be your chauffeur.”  After a long minute, Bucky sighed.

"Fine,” he said, sounding defeated even as he kicked off the blanket and got off the couch.   As he shuffled towards the door, clearly intending to go to all of his appointments wearing his pajamas, Tony hurried around the house making sure he had Bucky’s wallet and his phone and the medical paperwork he’d stacked on the counter the night before.   He steered Bucky towards his own car instead of Bucky’s, because his car had heated seats and that seemed like something Bucky could really use right about now.  “Thank you,” Bucky mumbled as he fastened his seatbelt.  “I’m sorry for making you drive me around today.”

“You’re not making me, I offered,” Tony said firmly.  “I demanded, really.  Besides, we’re a team, right? Just let me do this for you today.”

The first stop was Bucky’s therapist, where Tony dropped Bucky off out front and waited in the car for him to finish, wanting to be respectful and give him as much space as possible.  When he came out, Bucky seemed to be a little lighter, standing a bit straighter, though he still had the hood to his sweatshirt over his head and his feet were shuffling as he walked across the parking lot.  Next was Bucky’s physical therapist, and this time Tony followed him inside because he was tired of sitting in the car.   

While Bucky slouched in the chair in the waiting room, Tony wandered around the office, looking at the informational posters and brochures they had on the wall.  He picked up one for prosthetics, curious, and sat back down next to Bucky.

“I tried one of those,” Bucky said, glancing over at the brochure.  “Hated it.”

 “Why?”

Bucky shrugged and made a face.  “It just…it’s not an arm, you know? Doesn’t move like one, doesn’t look like one.  I’d rather have no arm than a half-assed arm, I guess. It was just more trouble than it was worth.”

 “Huh.” As Tony looked down at the pictures in the brochure and read through the stats, the nurse came out to call Bucky’s name.  He folded the paper up and put it in his pocket, then spent the rest of the hour while Bucky was doing physical therapy on his phone doing research.

***

“So? What do you think?” Tony asked nervously.  “I know it’s a lot different than my application, but-”

“Unfortunately, for a project like this you really need to be in CUNY’s biomedical engineering program, they are the ones on the cutting edge of prosthetics research right now,” the professor said regretfully, leaning back in his chair and tapping his pen on the desk.  “Tanden really just doesn’t have the expertise and equipment you need.”

Tony felt his stomach drop.  “But the fall semester starts in a month!”

“You might be able to get a transfer, doctoral programs are a little more flexible about this sort of thing than undergraduate programs.”

“But what about my financial aid? Will that transfer?”

 “Financial…aid?” The professor repeated, baffled.  “You’re not-“

 “Never mind,” Tony said, wiping his hands over his face.  He’d figure it out somehow. “Um, so what do I need to do about this transfer?”

 “I know the head of the department over there, so I’ll give him a call and he will start working on it from his end.  If you don’t get an email from me in the next day or two, give me a call, ok?”

 “Thanks.” Tony shook his hand and was searching up the phone number for the financial aid office of CUNY before he was even out of the professor’s office.  He spent twenty minutes on hold with them, then another twenty minutes on hold with NYU’s financial aid office, and then even longer with the FAFSA office, only to get the same information from each person – it was too late to transfer his financial aid grant to a new university.  Doctoral fellowships and grants had already been awarded, along with all of the graduate teaching assistant positions and the myriad of other ways students financed their PhD.  His choices were clear: he could either stay with NYU and keep his aid package, or he could go to CUNY and pay out of pocket.  And CUNY was going to cost significantly more than the couple of hundred dollars he had in his pocket.

“Fuck,” he said, sitting down heavily on the nearest bench.  He buried his face in his hands for a moment, trying to concentrate on breathing and not freaking out, then he scrubbed his face and reached for his phone.

“Hey, Jarvis,” he said.  “I’m sorry to bother you but are you free? I really need to talk.”

Because Howard was in town, Jarvis and Ana met him at the bakery around the corner from the house.  When he got there, they had ordered him a glazed cruller and hot chocolate, just like every Sunday since he was a child.  When he saw that Tony had to look away and count to twenty in Latin, afraid he was going to cry if he let himself. Cry again, that is, since frustration had already gotten the better of him on the drive over.

“Tony!” Ana said with delight, and they both rose to hug him as he came over.  “How are you doing?” She framed his face with her hands and studied him, looking concerned.  “Oh dear.  You are not doing well,” she tsked. “What’s wrong?”

Caught before he could even get a word out, Tony sighed and rested his head on Ana’s shoulder, shoulders slumping.  “Everything,” he said pathetically.

Ana let him sit down and she and Jarvis listened attentively while Tony told them the whole situation.  They exchanged glances when Tony mentioned the marriage, but thankfully held their tongues until Tony was finished speaking.

“So you and this – Bucky, you said? – are fine?” Ana asked.  She put a hand over Tony’s.  “It’s just, this marriage thing seems so sudden.”

“Yeah, he’s great,” Tony said honestly.  “I just, care about him so much and I want to be able to help him, but...” He blew out a breath. “Despite everything, it seems like it’s coming down to money.”

“Have you not looked in the box Maria sent you?” Jarvis asked with surprise.

“No.  I thought it would just be, I don’t know, letters or drawings from my childhood or something, and I haven’t been in the mood to deal with that. Why?”

“Honey,” Ana said, part sympathetic and part exasperated.  “You know your father isn’t the only wealthy one in that marriage, right?”

“I know.” Tony rolled his eyes.  Maria had been old money, from a high society family that had not been impressed with how Howard had made his billions.  Her parents had died when Tony was pretty young, so he only had dim memories of a fancy piano room and Howard’s periodic grumblings about those “snooty bastards.” “But I can’t ask Mom for money.  If Howard found out…” Tony could just imagine the gloating, the condescension.   Even if Tony got rich on his own right, Howard would still say that he only did it because of Maria’s money.

Jarvis shook his head.  “Maria’s parents gave you money for every birthday and holiday since you were born,” he said.  “They were very excited to have a grandson, and fought with Howard constantly about seeing you more often.”

Tony stared at him blankly. “Are you saying that there is _money_ in that box? _My_ money? Why didn’t they ever say anything about it?”

“It was supposed to be for a rainy day,” Jarvis said.  "I'm sure your mother never thought you would need it."

Ana nodded. “But for you, sweetie, I think this situation is rainy enough to qualify.”

After that, Ana and Jarvis could tell that Tony was anxious to see if his mysterious inheritance was in fact what was in that deceptively small box from Maria, so they made excuses to leave as soon as he was done eating so he wouldn’t feel guilty about racing home immediately.  Bucky was in the garage under a Toyota, singing along to the radio, so Tony shouted hello as he raced up the stairs and dug the box out from under a pile of dirty laundry.  He realized his hands were shaking as he opened up the box and forced himself to take a deep breath.  With controlled movements, he leafed through the papers inside and found his birth certificate, his social security card, the title to his car, and, at the bottom, just like Ana and Jarvis had said, recent statements for a savings account in his name, with Maria’s parents listed as custodians.

“Jesus,” he whispered, looking at the account balance. Every year from his birth to their deaths, his grandparents had given him the maximum amount they could without it being taxed by the IRS; last year, it would have seemed like a pittance, but right now it felt like a fortune.   He was still in a daze, sitting on the floor of his bedroom with all the papers scattered around, when his phone rang.  He jumped and fumbled it out of his pockets, frowning with confusion when he saw it was Bucky.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“I don’t know if you want to come downstairs, but your dad’s here,” Bucky said, and Tony could tell that his voice was tight with anger.  “He’s asking for you, but if you want, I can tell him to go piss off.”

“No, I’ll be right there.”  Tony shuffled everything together into a pile and set it on his bed before jogging down the stairs.

“Anthony,” Howard bit out as soon as he saw Tony. “What in the _hell_ do you think you are doing?”

“You are going to have to be more specific,” Tony said.  “I’m doing a lot of stuff, and thanks to you, exactly none of it is your business.”

“Oh, really? If it’s none of my business, why did I get a phone call from someone working at the county clerk’s office asking for twenty thousand dollars or they will sell the news that Tony Stark just married some _nobody_ from Brooklyn to every tabloid in the nation?” Howard shoved a faxed copy of Tony and Bucky’s marriage license in Tony’s face, almost hitting him in the nose.

“Well, it’s not my fault that someone at the county clerk’s office is a money-grubbing asshole,” Tony said calmly, taking the paper from Howard and crumpling it into a ball. “Do what you want with the information, I don’t care.”

For the first time in Tony’s life, Howard seemed speechless.  “This has gone on long enough,” he finally said.  “This little _experiment._   Clearly this marriage is just meant to get my attention and you know what, it worked.  You’re going to come home, well get this…this _marriage,_ ” he said with distaste, “annulled, and if you are still insisting on this doctorate insanity we’ll see if you can do it part time or something.”

Tony stared at Howard in disbelief. “I’m not going anywhere,” Tony said finally.  “My _marriage,_ ” he said, echoing Howard’s snooty tone, “has nothing to do with you, and neither does my doctorate.”

“Oh please,” Howard sneered.  “You can’t convince me that this guy is anything other than some handicapped, money grubbing-“

“You will shut your goddamn mouth right there, do you understand?” Tony said dangerously, taking a step closer to Howard.  In the corner of his eye, he saw Bucky surreptitiously reach for a wrench from the work table, and felt a rush of warmth that Bucky was ready to leap to his defense.  “Bucky is a better man than you will ever be, do you understand?  He let me into his home, he gave me a job, and he’s been gracious and caring and none of it had anything to do with your goddamn money.  Do I love him? I don’t know, I might. But I’m starting to suspect that because of you, maybe I have a fucked up idea of what love feels like and looks like, so despite your gracious offer,” Tony said with a snarl, “I think I’m just going to stay right fucking here living _my_ fucking life because I am doing _just fine without you!_ ” Tony didn’t realize he was starting to yell until he finished his sentence and was out of breath.  He pressed his lips together tightly because he was pretty sure that the only other thing that was going to come out of his mouth was going to just be a string of profanity.

Howard narrowed his eyes and started to speak, but just then Bucky stepped up beside Tony and said, “You need to leave,” with a look in his eye that said _leave or I’ll make you._   Howard took one look at him, at the wrench in his hand and the set of his shoulders, and turned on his heels.

“Have it your way,” he said.  “I give the paparazzi a couple of hours before they are swarming you.” Then he slammed the door on his Aston Martin and peeled away with a screech of tires.

Tony exhaled and his shoulders relaxed as his father drove away.  He heard the clank of Bucky putting the wrench down and then there was an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into Bucky’s chest.  “Well, that was intense,” Tony said, resting his head against Bucky’s collarbone.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky agreed.  “Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about? You were here for the whole thing.”

“Not your dad,” Bucky said, sounding like he was grinning a mile wide.  When Tony drew back from the hug and looked at him with confusion, Bucky’s smile somehow got wider. “The part where you said you might love me.”


	7. Step 7: Fall In Love, Live Happily Ever After

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pure smut epilogue :)

Remembering Howard’s warning about paparazzi, Bucky didn’t want their first kiss to be out here on the sidewalk, so he led Tony back inside the garage, hit the button to close the big metal doors, and herded Tony up the stairs to their apartment.  And it was a little humbling, Bucky realized when he looked around, how slowly but surely it had become _theirs,_ and seeing all the signs of Tony there made his heart melt even more than it already had during his diatribe.

“I want to kiss you now,” he said, cupping a hand behind Tony’s neck and pulling him in close.  Bucky smiled at Tony’s wide-eyed nod, at the way his eyes automatically dropped to Bucky’s mouth.  Using his thumb he tilted Tony’s head up and ducked down to press a chaste kiss on the corner of his mouth, then on the arch of his cheekbone and the corner of his eye, feeling Tony’s ridiculously thick eyelashes flutter against his bottom lip. “I’ve thought about this more than once,” he confessed in Tony’s ear, the heat of his breath raising goosebumps on Tony’s skin.

“Yeah?” Tony said.  He tilted his head and made a soft noise when Bucky kissed him beneath his ear.

“Oh, yeah.  Daydreamed. Planned it out.”  He brushed his lips over Tony’s again, smiling when Tony tried to chase the teasing pressure.  “I thought maybe during movie night, I would get the courage to make a move, and we would spend the rest of the night making out on the couch.”

Tony licked his lips and glanced at the couch.  “It’s uh, not night time, but we could still do that.”

“True.”  Bucky ducked his head down again and ran his tongue over Tony’s bottom lip, tracing the path Tony’s tongue had just taken.  Tony made another noise and this time got up on his toes to follow Bucky’s mouth, so he rewarded him by giving him what he wanted, a deep, thorough kiss that had Tony’s hands fisting in his shirt while he tried to keep his balance.   Bucky wondered if Tony could feel the way his heart was racing, the way he was practically shaking with the need to do everything _now_ – he realized that he felt like Tony was only letting him do this in a moment of madness and that any minute now he was going to change his mind and decide that Bucky wasn’t good enough for him.  So he forced himself to pull away, kissing Tony one last time on that tempting mouth, and said, “Are you sure about this?”

Tony’s eyes flew open and his mouth quirked in a wry grin.  “Oh my God, I married a moron,” he said, and pulled Bucky back down, tongue tracing the seam of his lips until Bucky opened them and let him thrust inside.  With a groaning laugh deep in his chest, Bucky started backing towards the couch, unwilling to let Tony go long enough to see where he was going.  He swallowed back a grunt when his calf hit the coffee table but his next step took him to the couch and then Tony’s warm, squirming weight was pressing him into the cushions. 

“For the record, I think I could be in love with you, too,” Bucky murmured, squeezing the back of Tony’s neck and resting their foreheads together.

“Sorry it came out the way it did,” Tony said sheepishly.  “It could have been a little more romantic.”

Bucky kissed him again, and the conversation got lost a little in the drugging movement of mouths and bodies, especially when Tony slid his hands under Bucky’s shirt to stroke his sides.  “It was perfect,” he said against Tony’s mouth when they pulled apart.  He opened his eyes, which had fallen shut during the kiss, and winced. “Sorry for the stubble burn,” he said, running his thumb over the pinkness around Tony’s mouth.

“Don’t apologize unless you’re not planning to do it all over,” Tony said, turning his head to capture Bucky’s thumb in his teeth and licking the pad suggestively, making Bucky’s breath come fast and hard.

“Oh God, yes, yes I am totally planning to do that.” Bucky slid his hand down Tony’s back to slide into the waist of Tony’s jeans to cup his ass, making Tony rock against him.  He groaned at the pressure of Tony’s clothed cock against his own and said, “But let’s do this for a little while first.”

“Yes, yes, that sounds good,” Tony babbled, and he shoved Bucky’s shirt up so he could put his hands on Bucky’s chest, bracing himself to rock against him again.  “But, uh, just for full disclosure, I haven’t really, um, done much with another guy.”

“How much is ‘not much’?” Bucky asked, hand stroking up and down Tony’s back, kneading the muscle there before gripping Tony’s hip again and guiding his movements. 

“Um, not like…all the way? Like, third base but with guys?” Tony said as he straightened to pull off his shirt.

“So what, a handjob?”

“Yeah.”  Tony thought about telling him the story, but he’d been high as a kite and had been making out with a guy at the club and they’d stumbled to the alley out back with their hands down each other’s pants.  Afterwards, he’d thrown up out of anxiety and had gotten blackout drunk, so, yeah.  Not his best moment.

“Wait, you said you were good at drinking, fucking, and fixing things,” Bucky said, raising an eyebrow even as he thrust his hips up against Tony, the pressure of his zipper really starting to dig into his erection.  “But how can you say you’re so good at sex if you’ve never gone all the way with a guy?  I think that just means that you’re good at sex with women.”

“Hey, now,” Tony protested.  He tugged at Bucky’s shirt until Bucky leaned forward and let him pull it over his head, hand going right back to Tony’s ass when he was done.  "Sex isn’t all about experience.  It’s a mindset.  An _attitude_.”

“Uh huh,” Bucky said, smothering a grin.  “Sure, having the right attitude goes a long way. But on the other hand, no one gets blow jobs right on their first try.”

Tony narrowed his eyes at the skeptical tone in Bucky’s voice.  “Wanna bet?”  Tony climbed off Bucky’s lap and pushed his knees apart to kneel between them, eyeing Bucky’s erection like it was a challenge as he unzipped and unbuttoned Bucky’s jeans.

“Tony, I was just kidding, you don’t have to- _ffffuck_ ,” Bucky panted, head falling back against couch.  His hand came up to bury his fingers in Tony’s thick hair, anything else he was planning to say blown right out of his mind as Tony just went for it, swallowing down his cock as far as it would go.  He could feel Tony’s throat squeezing him as he tried to cough, but Tony stubbornly refused to move for another few moments, as if he had something to prove.  As he came back up, Tony’s mouth was all heat and pressure, his talented fingers circling the base of Bucky’s cock as he bobbed up and down.

Bucky almost whimpered when Tony pulled off, hand still stroking him even as his other one wiped at the tears at the corner of his eyes from where he had choked himself on Bucky’s cock.  “You know, the British call it a suck job,” he commented while Bucky blinked dazedly at him, “which always struck me as way more accurate than _blow_ job.” And then he matched action to words, lips and tongue tightening on him as Tony proceeded to try to suck Bucky’s brain out through his dick. 

“Okay, okay, you win,” Bucky groaned, hips thrusting as much as he dared while he tried really hard not to pull Tony’s hair.  The pleased hum Tony made at that vibrated right through his cock and Bucky had to bite his knuckles or he would have come right then.  With great effort he dragged his head off the back of the couch to meet Tony’s eyes, which was a strategic error because he also saw Tony’s lips stretched around him right as he swallowed him down to the root again.  “Christ,” Bucky cursed helplessly, cupping Tony’s jaw, heart turning over as Tony leaned into the touch even as he pressed his tongue to the sensitive spot under the head of Bucky’s cock. “Tony, please, you’re – _fuck_ \- going to make me come.”

Tony’s only response was to slide his free hand up Bucky’s stomach and chest and run his thumb over Bucky’s nipple, humming around his cock again.  It was messy and uncoordinated and amateurish but it was _Tony_ , so Bucky put his hand over the one Tony had wrapped around him and showed him how he liked to be touched, the pressure and the pace and _God,_ Tony was a fast learner –

“ _Tony_ -“ was the only warning Bucky could give before he was coming in long pulses in Tony’s mouth, breath seizing and toes curling from the force of it.  He had barely relaxed from it, spine still tingling, when Tony was scrambling back into his lap, wiping his mouth with one hand while fumbling with his jeans with the other.

“Yeah, let me see you,” Bucky crooned, helping him shove his pants down his hips.

“I’m not going to last long,” Tony rasped, and Bucky could see the urgency in his movements as he stroked himself, his cock dark and wet with need. 

“Yes, do it, I want to watch.” Bucky’s hand roamed everywhere he could reach while Tony panted and shuddered on top of him, squeezing his ass, dragging his nails down Tony’s back.  Tony’s chest was flushed red and he was biting his lip, making ragged sounds that Bucky wanted to feel on his skin.  “Christ, you’re so beautiful,” Bucky said, tangling his hand in Tony’s hair and tugging him down to kiss those bitten-red lips.

“More,” Tony pleaded, and Bucky tugged on his hair again, just this side of painful, and then Tony was groaning and shuddering against him, his release spilling wetly onto Bucky’s stomach.  With a shaky moan, Tony rested his forehead against Bucky’s neck, breath still coming fast against Bucky’s skin.

“Next time it’s my turn,” Bucky said, cradling Tony’s head against him, feeling so satisfied that he could have stayed on this couch, sticky and sweaty and half-undressed, for at least the rest of the day. “I want to get my mouth on that beautiful dick of yours.”

“Deal,” Tony said, huffing out a laugh as he sat up and reached for his shirt to clean them both up.  “You already admitted that I won, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, how about best two out of three,” Bucky said, unable to resist the temptation to kiss the grin on Tony’s face.  He pulled his pants back up over his hips but left them unbuttoned while Tony kicked his off completely and tossed them down the stairs to put in the laundry later.  “Hey, earlier, right before your dad showed up, you came running into the house like a bat outta hell. What was up with that?”

"Oh, that's right!" As Tony turned to face him, his grin was blinding.  "What do you want to hear first, the good news, or the better news?"


End file.
